


Deliverer of Death

by Grunky



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dark Brotherhood (Elder Scrolls) - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26544550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grunky/pseuds/Grunky
Summary: "I will always think of Lucien Lachance as my savior. When he found me, I was living in a gutter, an inch away from death. I owe him everything."
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Deliverer of Death

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Really, why would I be here if I actually owned the Elder Scrolls?
> 
> This story was written a couple years back - 2017, I want to say? It was originally intended to be a chapter in a longer story detailing Antoinetta Marie's backstory (ironically, this was intended to be the final chapter, and was written before any of the others).
> 
> Needless to say, I never finished it.
> 
> However, I find it a shame to have this piece collecting dust, as it is still among my proudest works. I just wanted to state this beforehand, in case ya'll feel this reads more like a part of a bigger story in certain instances. Because it originally was. Enjoy!

_It had felt like her senses_ were suddenly pouring over her, revitalized. She felt warm furs over her and underneath her; she heard the relaxed murmurs of song and talk. She smelled the stark stench of alcohol, and saw the faintest orange glow of a candleflame before her.

Where was she? And why?

Before darkness overcame she was limp on the cold cement. Her limbs had burned in agony by old, infected wounds... She had died, surely? She even believed she saw a deliverer of death - it grabbed her and suddenly her weight had lifted like a soul detaching from their physical form.

She forced herself up. The burning sensations had faded significantly as she stretched and tested her body under the coverlet slowly. The pain and ache were still there, though.

Soon the woman realized where she was; the light here was small but enough to reveal half of this thin room barely fit for the bedroll. The mingle of voices below suggested a tavern, or perhaps a home hosting a party. For one fleeting moment she entertained the idea that what she experienced was a dream, from her aunt's murder to prison to wandering Cyrodiil, and that she was resting through one of her parties, her pain a strange after-effect from it all...

But that would just be absurd. She noticed her ragged clothes, felt the deep scar at the side of her face. No way was this her room, or the closet - she looked around and across -

That was when she fixed to it. The light could only glean a dim outline, but it was undeniably a human shape within the dark at her feet.

The faceless figure. The one that approached before her presumed death.

And at her, it _spoke_.

"Awake at last?" It's voice was a low, masculine drawl. Antoinetta threw her back to the wall - she stared, blanching, and said nothing. The faceless figure chuckled,

"Appropriate instinct, I suppose. However fear not... If I had intent to harm you I would have done so whilst you slept."

"I... Who... Are you?" Said Antoinetta. Her words came out hoarse, faint; she herself was surprised at hearing herself after such a long silence. Squinting further at the figure couldn't answer her question, as if he was one with the shadows on the wall.

"Who did you think I was?"

Antoinetta's brows furrowed, "Um... A vision of death? Or a wraith."

Another snicker; the figure seemed to be enjoying this exchange. "How flattering you would think that of me. A manifest of death itself? Ah, but I am merely a man - a man that reaps life as a trade just as a farmer would his crops to serve his lord. Of course, that is not such for _you_. Instead, I've been tasked with watching over you."

Silence again. Antoinetta was clearly thinking hard, yet her mind was tired still and no matter how apparent it was everything was hazy. The faceless man let her search for her own words.

"But how? I remember fading... I was in a chapel undercroft _dying_..."

"And the spirits would have surely welcomed you, too, if I had not found your form lying there. It was some trouble, but after working my most costly tonics and herbs and spells, your diseases quelled. I then took you here hoping you'd soon wake. Nigh two nights have passed."

"I... Really? That - that can't be possible though, can it? What potions could be that powerful?"

"You don't know the degree of my... Expertise, then." Said the faceless man, "As I said they were costly. Something concocted only by masters. But what matters now is that they worked, and you're alive, talking to me."

It all added up, yet Antoinetta was overwhelmed by what she heard. She was gawking at the figure one moment, then a soft whimper fell into rolling tears in the next. She scolded herself for this but knew it couldn't be helped; to think of standing on the verge of death - how horrible and small she had felt then, knowing all the effort she had put to get to that point had dissipated... And the one you believed would end you, heals you - watches over you - saves you... It was more than she'd ever expect the world to give. More than she deserved.

Once her tears had mostly ceased, she thanked him profusely. "Oh, thank you... Thank you... I never expected this... I never thought I had another chance, oh _please_ whoever you are -"

"Antoinetta Marie."

This quieted her instantly. The woman lifted her head, peered into the darkness of this man's hood again.

"What I wish you'll give to me in return is an attentive ear and clear conscience. You are not dead, but you are still weak, still not fully recovered. I shall fetch you something to eat and then see to your wounds - after that I'd like to discuss your... 'New chance' at life."

"No no, you don't have to -"

Too late; the faceless man stood, vanishing further into the dark before the latch clicked open, and light poured over the room for a second as he stepped out. Antoinetta was left with even more new questions.

* * *

What small amount of food the mysterious man brought up to her she had saw as a feast; fresh hot bread, wedge of cheese, a flask full of refreshing water. Antoinetta tried to savor it, but both her gnawing hunger and anticipation led her to gorge herself. She was fully awake now, seemingly aware of every little detail surrounding her.

The faceless man was keen to notice this. He awaited again until she gazed at him with bated breath.

"Now that you're fully conscious, let me formally introduce myself: I am Lucien Lachance. It was my duty to mend you, for I have had my eye on you since your arrival at the Imperial City... Well, more so we: The murder of your Aunt - your work - resounded not only to the law but to the ears of a very, _selective_ , matriarch. And so I was dispatched to find you for her."

Antoinetta took a moment to digest this information.

"Why, though? Was her murder truly that astounding?"

Lucien leaned in closer - for the first time Antoinetta caught a glimpse of him, a crooked and knowing smile glinting.

"She, the Night Mother, may work in a cryptic manner, but always she is sure of whom to take into her embrace. She knows across all of Tamriel, more than any other, the sound of death in its wake.

Tell me... How did you feel when you killed her?"

Months had buried the memory in the back of her mind. And yet when she dug it up, Antoinetta found herself reliving it; watching her eat and drop. A whisper like winter in her ears, encouraging her. And she laughed laughed laughed laughed!

"It was... Wonderful, actually," She chortled, "It felt relieving, and oh so fulfilling. Hehehe! - Her face plopped right into the bowl of stew! Hearing her fall silent was music to my ears."

Lucien's smile widened. "And what of the prison guards?"

She mulled over that, too. Her escape might have been fast, but the thrill of the chase and the great satisfaction she experienced killing those crooked men would last for months to come.

"Those guards had dealt me so much pain, so many terrible thing that'll just live with me... They got what they deserved."

"So they did... So they did... And the crazed beggars? The lonely travelers out in the naked night?"

Antoinetta faltered a little then. She looked back to how she had squeezed herself in shadowy nooks and hid in thick foliage to patiently prey on a vagabond, and then to a beggar who held a lot more than the rags on his back. Those ones, she never knew - and neither did they try to provoke her. They were blameless targets for her.

Had it been right to kill them? "I-hm..." She gazed at Lucien, feeling his silent judgement. She reminded herself the relief she felt taking their provisions. And the encouraging, disembodied voice. No, no of course it was just, she needed them dead for her to live - one way or another.

"I feel nothing for them!" Antoinetta grinned, "Why should I have when I had to look out for myself?"

"...Now see that? That is exactly why you were chosen - you are a cold-blooded murderer, taking life without empathy to see through desired ends. You are perfect for the Dark Brotherhood."

_Dark Brotherhood_. The name rung familiar in Antoinetta's mind, remembering it murmured around the dining table through her Aunt's guests, a curse word to them. But hearing those words ignited a fire back in Antoinetta's eyes. How long has it been, since she longed to hear she was good for something? Too long.

"Please, tell me about the Dark Brotherhood. And the Night Mother! I'm afraid I don't know much." It'd be wise to learn about the people seeking her, she reasoned.

Lucien laughed, "So eager...

"You may have found that the Brotherhood is a taboo, dangerous subject; talk of our deeds as hired assassins for business and enjoyment are widespread throughout the continent, and are deemed vile and depraved. Our worship of the Dread Father, Sithis, and his bride the Night Mother are equally so in their eyes... What they say is true, but there is so much more they don't understand; above all else we are a group of like-minded individuals - a family unified by one faith, abiding to the rules of the Five Tenets."

Lucien paused in his speech to scrutinize Antoinetta's reaction. He was pleased to see she was _grinning_ at all this.

"Under our name, Antoinetta Marie, your current bounty will be erased in due time. You'll reap rewards from contracts you undertake, and will have the chance to meet others that share your unique interests. Are you willing?-"

"Yes." Said Antoinetta. Her voice was sound and sure despite the excitement rising in her. "I want to join. I want to be a part of your family."

The dark man nodded, rising once more, gesturing for Antoinetta to do the same. "And you shall precisely. I overlook a particular group east of here in the city of Cheydinhal. When we arrive there I will tell you the rest of what you need to know, and then we will depart from each other,"

Antoinetta clambered up with help from the wall at first. In a couple steps she wouldn't waver, and joined Lucien through the door.

"I still have many queries. You wouldn't be bothered to answer them?"

Lucien turned his head. At last the woman could glimpse his face in the stronger light; an imperial in skin and structure, his otherwise kempt appearance was weathered by the many old scars spanning decades of experience and adventure, with a sleek black ponytail flowing out of his hood yet scruffy stubble across his face. Antoinetta stared at him as much as she could before he turned back around.

Now she knew he wasn't entirely supernatural.

"Certainly. Anything about our practices - as a Speaker for the Black Hand I am obliged."

Through the listful way Lucien spoke of it, Antoinetta could already glean the title's importance. After all, why shouldn't it be, to be bestowed upon this man who had just salvaged a damned life, and likely has many more achievements under his belt?

"Alright then..." She said, "Tell me more of your position... Speaker."

* * *

The ride to Cheydinhal was spent slowly, the quiet, damp midnight air filled pregnant with series of enthusiastic questioning, calm and eloquent responses. Antoinetta at this time had her arms very loosely wrapped around Lucien's waist as he held the reigns of his horse - a strange one, she'd say, with a coat of deep purple and red eyes that pierced the dark.

She had stayed silent throughout the tavern. When they left, however, silence perpetually ceased. Lucien answered in length, cherishing and accentuating the topic as if it were a fine wine. Antoinetta could see that piece of his enigmatic character; that he prided himself in his work. So with that, she kept asking - so he could keep Speaking.

"And who is Sithis?" She queried.

"Sithis bears many titles: he is our Dread Father, groom to our Unholy Matron. He is the true creator of Nirn and is the emptiness in which it, Aetherius, and Oblivion is suspended - he is The Void. Gaze upon the starless night above, or the shadows cast by light, to glimpse his image and his lasting influence on the world. He is around us all the time, yet nowhere all at once."

"Does he speak with the Listener, just as the Night Mother does?"

Lucien shook his head, "Such a thing, as him speaking with any member of the Brotherhood? No, beyond him speaking with the Night Mother, no account has been recorded."

"Then what do you think his voice would sound like?"

"I'd imagine Sithis' voice something akin to a distant echo of the thousands of souls he's collected, brittle and chilling like the winter winds."

It had clicked into Antoinetta's mind at that moment - the voice. Those disembodied words she'd hear moments before a kill, they were like a call from afar. Different variations would repeat off each other, though all were cold and subtle... Had she heard Sithis this whole time?

That would be odd, she knew, and Lucien had told her there hadn't been such an occurrence - but there was no other explanation she could possibly conceive. What if Sithis led some to the path of murder? To the Brotherhood? Perhaps the voice would leave her now that its job was complete. How to bring about it, though.

"Funny thing, that is..." She started, "As I have heard something awfully like that - it was just as you described, the faint voice of many. Always it would speak in my ear before I made a kill. It encouraged me."

Antoinetta stared into the back of Lucien's hood. Wide-eyed and thoughtful. "Perhaps that was Sithis?"

The imperial cast a sidelong glance at her; judging, hard, and fleeting, as if the question was menial and easy.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not."

Beyond that matter - which Antoinetta would surely investigate once all of this is over - Lucien held much praise and musing for her risky actions, of which he was informed of by the Listener. Antoinetta was stunned, even flattered; never before had she saw her actions in high regard, or even any at all. For her, it had been just a tactic for her survival at the time. Now that it was recounted she remembered wondering the point of it all. Even if she lived a little longer, what else? What was worth living for when you had no home to go to, no friends to console in?

She despised that feeling. Despised hopelessness. She hung onto every word Lucien said then, letting them renew and revise the faith in her skills far above measures she had ever set.

* * *

"How soon should I be expecting to see you again, Speaker?"

Although more than jovial to approach the gates of Cheydinhal, Antoinetta was a bit disheartened to know she'd have to break off from Lucien. He endowed her with conclusions to old problems, saved her, and opened up a whole new path before her. She wished to learn more from him and didn't know when that could be.

"I try to frequent here every month, typically. Do not seek me out sooner - you'd find no trace of me."

A curt nod; as Lucien reigned his horse to a halt, Antoinetta climbed off, the Speaker not following suit. He fumbled through his satchel and produced a small key.

"You should know how to traverse through the city with a bounty on your head, hm? Not to fear though, it won't stay long after this. Follow the street north past the graveyard and chapel, and you will find an abandoned house," Lucien handed the key to Antoinetta, "Once inside, go to the basement. You will find the Black Door within - with the riddle it asks, answer 'Sanguine, my brother.'"

The breton simpered, gazing up at Lucien as he did the same inscrutibly. She opened her mouth many times just for the growing winds and her own objections to close it.

How could she say she was indebted, perfectly?

The dampening air signaled a storm approaching. Lucien was turning his horse and ambling off when Antoinetta rushed him, finally building the gall to shout through a gust of wind.

"Speaker, wait!"

He stopped. Antoinetta hurried up,

"Before you leave... Thank you, just thank you. I know I said it so many times already but I can never express enough how grateful I am for your service, your courtesy. You've given me so much more in one night than the world has ever given. If... There's ever anything you need, I'd be willing to help however I can. It's the least I can do for you."

A small grin cracked on the man's features just as the roll of thunder called in the distance.

"I will consider it. For now, you must make your own accord."

* * *

There was a fervid spring in Antoinetta's step upon passing Cheydinhal's gates. Unlike her previous venture into a city, her stride was purposeful, not frivolous. She could ignore the cold rain. She could ignore the suspicious glances. She could ignore the dark alleys and barren avenues, for she needn't call them shelters anymore.

She'll have a home soon.

A straight tread, through the bridge and past the cemetery, and the house would come into sight. Even now in the smothered moonlight this decrepit structure held a menacing shadow across the street - Sithis's touch, Antoinetta thought with a smile as she crept into the looming dark. Its cobblestone fencing crumbled, its walls weathered and moss-ridden, and the grass grew to nearly her waist.

"There it is. This is it." She said to herself. The woman went through the yard, fiddled with planks that barred the door. They pulled away easily; she turned the key and entered.

From the moment she stepped in to this haphazardly arranged house with a secret to behold, memories overcame her, and she began to truly realize just how strangely things can change. She never thought she would survive past that night, yet here she was; she never planned to become a killer, yet the path had been paved for her the day she killed her aunt. What she's done is wicked, tragic...

Yet it was something she was good for. And there will be others like her, waiting down in the basement depths.

Through the basement door now and Antoinetta wondered about these people. How would they judge her? Perhaps they'd look at her now as a sodden, pitiful little thing... She didn't want that - so foremost, she'll soon wipe this state of her clean from their memory. Change these rags; stay healthily fit; keep herself clean as a whistle and smile always! She'll make sure they know what she did to get here, even if those days should be left untouched in the grave, as she was made better by the trials and tribulations. Lucien had said so.

Down the slope and across - there was the door. Heavy stone embedded in jutting, chipped crags of a cave mouth. Roughly chiseled on the stone was a skull, watching over the worn depiction of a woman and her five children. The hall scintillated in red from the hand carved into the skull.

Head high and steps certain, she approached.

" _What... Is the color... Of night?_ "

Antoinetta smiled. "Sanguine, my brother."

Without her guidance the door gave way, chafing against the floor as the stone shifted to its right. With bated breath, Antoinetta entered the new life revealed before her.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, let me know how you liked the story, and if things could use improvement. I have a few other ideas focusing on these two - primarily romantic, in both lighter and darker aspects, as I've always found the pairing has overlooked potential. If something like that interests you, I'd love to know! Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
